TW: Descriptions of sexual assault.
'The Iron-Fisted Monk (1977)' is Sammo Hung's directorial debut. It tells the story of a man who leaves his training at the Shaolin temple early so he can seek revenge on the Manchu bannermen who hurt his uncle. That's the setup, at least. The majority of the movie actually focuses on a group of dye workers who come into conflict with the aforementioned bannermen, as well as one in particular who seeks his own revenge after his sister is raped, and sees its main character (who isn't the eponymous monk) become involved with their plight as part of his own journey. It's a darker film than most of Hung's others, but it still has a fluctuating tone and several comedic moments sprinkled throughout its relatively brisk runtime. However, the problem with this is that - unlike with some other movies in the genre which manage to balance humour with heft - its comedy directly clashes with its more serious, sometimes downright upsetting elements and feels really out of place. In fact, the humour almost comes across as downright disrespectful, especially in the wake of a truly horrific rape scene that's way more graphic than it needs to be. Hung simply refuses to cut away from the assault, forcing us to watch it through to its completion. The scene is clearly meant to make us hate the antagonist (literally credited as just "rapist bandit"), but it definitely didn't need to be as overt as it is. It leaves a sour taste in the mouth, for sure, and it actively dampens the impact of the overall affair.
In general, Hung's direction is confident and considered. For a lot of the affair, it's dependable but unremarkable. In the climax, though, his skills behind the camera really become apparent, alongside his skills in front of it. The finale, which is easily the best part of the picture, features two heroes against many villains, and the camera makes a point of flowing between both of them evenly. Unlike in similar films with simultaneous fights (including the generally superior The Magnificent Butcher (1979)), the set-piece manages to make it feel as though both are actually occurring at the same time. The fighters don't just pause when they're off-screen, as indicated by the purposeful jumps in choreography when the camera returns to one battle or the other, and there are some shots which have both sets of combatants in the frame, establishing the scene's geography and making the composition more interesting by pulling focus from foreground to background when necessary. It all culminates in a two-on-two segment which keeps all four fighters in frame and has them seamlessly swap between foes on occasion, creating a complex ballet of blows that's exciting to behold. The marriage of choreography and camera work is what makes Hung's debut truly stand out, marking the finale as an entertaining and well-crafted slice of action cinema that encompasses everything you think of when these creators first come to mind.
It's a shame the rest of the film doesn't live up to this segment. Rape scene notwithstanding, the plot is relatively ambling and not all that engaging. A loose narrative is common within the genre, but it's more noticeable here because this picture's comedy falls so short (you don't feel like you should be laughing at it, and it's not funny enough to break through that barrier). Plus, its story is really generic and its characters aren't all that interesting. Still, it's typically engaging enough to keep you watching and its action is always enjoyable. Its brutality is disarming on occasion, even if it's way too unpleasant at certain points, and it's always a joy to watch Hung do what he's best at. It's not a bad effort overall, and the fact that Hung would go on to direct some certifiable classics using lessons learned while making it certainly makes up for its shortcomings. Its finale truly is fantastic, too. It's not Hung's best, but it's a decent experience that's almost worth watching for its climax alone.
